


throw some glitter, make it rain

by just_in_cases, wrongtree



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Rimming, Spanking, a tiny bit of d/s undertones, an inappropriate use of the word "fucking", cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_in_cases/pseuds/just_in_cases, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongtree/pseuds/wrongtree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking a deep breath, Nick unlocks his door and marches in. He's about to tell the intruder to get the fuck out of his flat, or, if it's a pal, get the fuck into his bed, when something long and glittery catches his eye.</p><p> </p><p>(or the one where nick finds out he's a little bit more into cross-dressing harry than he expected)</p>
            </blockquote>





	throw some glitter, make it rain

**Author's Note:**

> basically, i saw this photo 
> 
> http://25.media.tumblr.com/9a55f071e4201888d41cfa771429ef63/tumblr_miv7o3n1bO1r757oro1_500.jpg 
> 
> and sent it to Alicia with the caption "Harry in these" and she ran with it.
> 
> The dialogue and plot line is entirely hers, I just made it into fic.

Nick is _fucking_ knackered. His _fucking_ dog woke him up before his morning alarm by coughing up the entire contents of her stomach, probably on purpose just to torment him, then he'd had approximately twenty BILLION tweets because he didn't defend One Direction from Showbot, and there were three different meetings after the show about upcoming features and show changes and guests. It's coming up to half ten at night and all he wants is to drink an _entire_ bottle of wine in bed curled up with Puppy and some shit telly.

Naturally, he doesn't get what he wishes for.

Nick is ten thousand percent positive that he 1) turned off the lights in the morning, 2) didn't have anyone popping in that would've turned them back on.

He can't even begin to guess at who could be in his flat, so many people have nicked his keys off him that they just come and go as they please (bit like a shop in a train station except with more free wine and sometimes fewer people. More barking though, Puppy is very vocal).

Taking a deep breath, he unlocks his door and marches in. He's about to tell the intruder to get the fuck out of his flat, or, if it's a pal, get the fuck into his bed, when something long and glittery catches his eye.

Harry fucking Styles is topless on his fucking couch in fucking sparkly tights and glittery stilettos; One leg propped up against the back of the couch, other almost dangling off the edge, his arm is thrown over the armrest his head is leaning on.

"Hiya, Nick." Harry says breathily since Nick has apparently lost the goddamn ability to think or move or open his mouth to say something, anything. What the actual fuck is his life?

Harry has the biggest shit-eating grin Nick's ever seen on his face. He knows, he always fucking _knows_.

It takes a good 60 seconds for Nick's brain to catch on to what is happening. He's standing against is door, keys still in hand, mouth open and gaping at Life Ruining Popstar Extraordinaire Harry Fucking Styles, who is 1) here? 2) in nothing but a) sparkling tights and b) really high high-heels, 3) here, 4) what?

Nick suspects he looks something like a fish gasping for water when Harry smirks and drawls, "So?"

"You. Fuck, Harry."

The bastard smirks wider, "Well? You gonna do something or are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open?"

Nick doesn't have the god _damn_ time or mental capacity to do anything but drop everything in his hands and somehow, miraculously, make it over to where Harry is sprawled across his couch. (If he weren't mostly hard in his pants he'd've mentioned that Puppy got sick there last week but as it is,) His hands are suddenly running up and down the inside of Harry's thigh, fingers catching on the little flecks in his tights, feeling how the material stretches over his still-tanned skin.

Nick’s still not sure how either of them got here but he puts a knee up on the couch between Harry's feet and gets both hands on either thigh, pulling the material away from Harry's body just to see how it reflects in the dim light and smacks back onto his skin. He moans a little at it, seeing how Harry's all dolled up and his his _his_.

He stops picking at the tights when Harry giggles. Nick looks up and catches Harry's eyes for the second time that evening; Nick feels like he's about to lose it immediately, if not sooner, but Harry still looks cool, calm, and collected, and Nick's had just about enough of the cocky curl to his lips.

Nick coughs a little and croaks out, "get on your hands and knees, Harry."

If he thought that would throw Harry off he was sadly mistaken. He must've forgotten that his boy loves being told what to do while also getting exactly what he wants.

Harry smiles from ear to ear before slowly turning himself over, careful not to poke the heels of his shoes into the couch while also giving Nick a good slow view of his glitter-covered arse. Nick's still amazed that Harry manages to be so eager and willing but so slow and aggravating at the same time.

Time passes too quickly and too slowly all at once. Nick wants to freeze this moment and just let the fact that Harry's waiting for him in shimmering tights with his back arched to waft over him. But he also wants to rip the damn tights off of him and sink his teeth into Harry's pert bum.

Apparently he's savouring the view for too long because Harry wiggles his hips impatiently, practically screaming “I’m here, Nick. What are you waiting for?” Neither of them can wait any longer so Nick composes himself and brings his hand to each of Harry's arse cheeks, squeezing and pulling them apart a little.

Harry makes a tiny pleased noise and pushes back into Nick's hands more.

"God, you look like sin in these, haz."

Before Harry can reply Nick pulls his right hand away and brings his open palm down onto his ass, causing Harry to jolt forward on the couch, they both gasp.

Harry sounds wrecked when he says, "Fuck. Nick, need you."

"I know, Popstar. Know what you need."

Nick's properly kneeling on the couch behind Harry now, perfect view of his bum and at the perfect angle to lean over and trail kisses down Harry's naked spine. So that's exactly what he does. He takes his time, mouthing at each vertebrae, still massaging one ass cheek with his hand. It's not until he gets to the hem of the tights does he think about Harry's cock (a first, he spends approximately 98.9% of his time thinking about Harry's cock—the other portion is spent thinking about his own and when it's going to be near Harry's again).

As if he didn't already know, Harry's cock is a vision of absolute perfection. It's straining against the material, trying to get out of it's glittering confines. It doesn't help that Harry's moving his hips in the tiniest of motions, trying to get some friction, all it does is make the material shimmer more where his cock is leaking all over it.

"You're so bloody fucking hot, H."

"Gonna do—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish as Nick pulls the mesh down just enough to uncover his arse, already starting to turn pink from a couple of smacks. He wants to take them all the way off but he knows how Harry loves to be teased and he needs to get his mouth in Harry right fucking now.

Bringing one more jolting smack to Harry's cheek, he leans in and nips at Harry's hole.

He loves feeling Harry gasp and clench against his lips. He loves feeling Harry go completely rigid as he sinks his tongue in. Nick loves knowing that he can take Harry apart completely by just a few licks and a spot of teasing. He's the only one that can do this for Harry, the only one that gets to see Harry like this.

Nick reckons he could do this for hours, years maybe—combined they're both wealthy enough to live contently for at least a decade. A whole decade of eating Harry out. A whole ten years of taking this boy apart with his tongue. Too many and not enough months of Harry squirming and wriggling and begging against his face. Unfortunately, Harry really cannot last as long at this as Nick wants to. Before too long he's breathing heavily and nearly crying, voice broken.

"Nick, I need. I. You have to."

Nick plants one last kiss against him and pulls back. As he starts speaking he presses the pad of his thumb against Harry's spit-slick hole, "I know, Haz. I know. You alright, babe? I need to go get the stuff." He stands up and walks to the edge of the couch to look Harry in the eyes, which are brimming with tears already, "Don't. Move."

At his command Harry goes so still that Nick has to grasp the base of his cock through his jeans, WHY IS HE STILL CLOTHED ANYWAY?, so that he doesn't come in his pants at Harry's obedience. Nick's not a fucking teenager, hasn't been in a long time, this shouldn't happen to him. This is a thing Harry Styles did to him, and he's not fucking coming before he gets in Harry, if that happened he'd off himself—in a death way, not in a sex way.

He sprints, cool and reserved as ever, to his room and grabs the bottle of their favourite lube off the bedside table. (They stopped using condoms a few months ago when they became officially exclusive (They got retested, got the all clear, and ran home like sex-starved gorillas, Harry had to hold his crotch the whole drive home. They'd barely made it through the door before their clothes were off and Nick had Harry bent over the nearest surface, crying and saying how he could feel every drag of Nick in him. It was quick and dirty and they collapsed to the floor before hearing a cough and Collette's voice around the corner asking "Are ya jokin'?" Nick still catches her side-eying the table sometimes). Now they only use them if they're in a rush and in need of speedy clean-up.)

Nick chucks off his clothes on the way back to Harry, stumbling a little in the hall when his pants get stuck on his ankle. He rounds the corner and Harry hasn't moved, like a perfect statue of sex.

His ass is red where Nick smacked it, but it's nothing compared to the colour of his lips. They're deep red, puffy, and shiny where he'd been biting them, trying to keep still. His cheeks are flushed, and when Nick kneels down beside him he sees that Harry's eyes are glossed over.

Gently, he takes Harry's jaw in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. Harry follows easily and parts his lips for Nick's tongue. Nick loves these tender moments too, he and Harry both like it quite rough but sometimes he likes to remind Harry that he's right here, right here and not going anywhere, that he'll take care of his boy.

Nick kisses him once more and pulls back to whisper "yeah?" against his lips.

Harry nods and Nick kisses him on the forehead before taking his place behind him again.

Nick leans forward and kisses over his handprints on Harry's arse cheeks before slowly pulling the glittering material the rest of the way down his thighs.

"Knees up, love," he commands. As Harry shifts to get the tights off, Nick places the heels on the floor. He'll ask Harry where they came from later, but right now he's got a naked boy begging for him so it's completely unimportant.

They've got all the time in the world so Nick uses it as he opens Harry up, slow as ever. It's convenient for not hurting Harry but also for teasing him; filling him up but nowhere near enough, knowing he's going to get Nick's cock soon but not soon enough. He impresses Nick by not even asking for more before Nick's sliding in another slick finger, already too far gone.

"You're so good, babe." Nick whispers into the skin at the base of his spine as he scissors his fingers and adds a third, quirking them and trying to find Harry's prostate.

Harry's trembling when Nick finds it, he lets out a sharp gasp and tries to sink his face farther into the couch. He mumbles something against it that sounds suspiciously like "please".

Nick pulls his fingers out and taps the inside of Harry's thigh, silently asking him to spread out the tiniest bit more. Nick pours more lube onto his already slick hand and gives himself a couple of tugs, savouring the view of Harry wiggling in anticipation.

Time is moving at a snails pace as Nick lines himself up and pushes the head of his cock past the rim of Harry's hole. They both let out a guttural moan that sounds like they've been holding it in too long, waiting for this exact moment of being connected together. It feels like 60 years go by before Nick's finally all the way in, balls resting right between the cleft of Harry's ass.

He leans forward and rests his too-hot cheek against Harry's sweaty, too-warm back, just feeling each short intake of breath, Harry's body trying to accommodate to Nick's size. Eventually Harry's breathing evens out and he takes a deep breath, signaling Nick to go ahead.

Nick shifts, searching for Harry's hand, finds it death-gripping the couch cushion, and intertwines their fingers. Harry likes physical contact: hands in his hair, kisses on his neck, fingers trailing the insides of his thighs, hand-holding. He likes to be comforted when he can't properly see Nick, likes to know he won't lose Nick in whatever he's feeling while he's drifting. Nick’s hands are like a homing signal for him, a bit like otters.

It doesn't take long for Nick's orgasm to build, he's got a good rhythm and Harry's coming apart completely under him, muttering nonsense and squeezing Nick's hand so hard he's sure there will still be nail imprints there tomorrow. It's embarrassing how quickly Nick comes, but Harry's so tight around him, always, and each drag of his cock in and out, in and out is unbearably good. He stills inside of Harry as he spills, panting heavily against his back.

Harry whimpers a bit as Nick pulls out and flips him over, not giving Harry time to catch a breath before he takes his cock in his mouth. Nick moans around it, his own cock giving a feeble twitch at the taste of Harry on his tongue. Harry's cock barely hits the back of Nick's throat before he's arching his whole body and coming down it.

Nick licks and sucks at the head until Harry’s rubbing the hairs at the back of his head. Nick suspects he’s trying to pull him off doesn’t have the energy to grip properly. He crawls up Harry’s body, tweaking a nipple as he goes, and kisses his jaw. Harry pulls Nick up and holds him in place to lick into his mouth, tasting himself there.

They kiss until they taste like saliva and each other. Nick breaks the kiss and looks at Harry’s face, he’s blushing and his pupils are still blown and his lips are an obscene shade of red and  Nick still can’t get over how good he looks like this, every single time.

Harry’s whole face breaks out into a massive grin, cheeks dimpling, “so, good idea?”

“Great idea.” and Nick collapses onto his boy, completely spent.


End file.
